


you belong to me

by Blownwish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Finger Fucking, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M, Obsession, Possessive Behavior, otayuri - Freeform, peripheral character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 11:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13317213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/pseuds/Blownwish
Summary: Otabek gives in when Yuri gives it up, because Yuri is not just beautiful, but so so strong.





	you belong to me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maddcocoa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddcocoa/gifts).



> Sorry I’m late. Please forgive! 
> 
> This was beta’d by the gracious Annabeth. It’s always a pleasure having you beta and chatting in the doc! Always full of good suggestions. And a thank you to Phayte. Sprinting with you is a blast! So is brainstorming! Thank you! 
> 
> This is for Maddcocoa for the Super Secret Santa. Not sure this is your cuppa. I know it’s a day short and dollar late. My very bad and I hope you had a lovely holiday season.

Otabek charges into his hotel room with a T-shirt, yanks his pants down, puts the shirt to his nose, starts jerking off. He’s coming like a freight train in seconds. “Yuri,” he moans. “Yuri, Yuri, _Yuri_.”

He can’t stop, he keeps jerking himself off as he remembers Yuri’s smile. As he remembers Yuri’s voice, sliding over Otabek like sweet honey. Otabek’s hand moves faster and he falls to his knees. He is still hard. He will always be hard. “Yuri!” He remembers how those clothes Yuri bought today clung to his body. How he turned around and laughed in them. How he looked like a riot, all wrapped in sex and leather. Otabek inhales the sweet, sweaty scent in the shirt Yuri tossed at him — like a spare treat for a dog.

Oh, he’s no dog. He’s no pet dog and Yuri ought to know better.

He comes even harder, and it’s still not enough. It will never be enough. Otabek swipes up all the come with Yuri’s shirt. Otabek stares up at the ceiling.

He’s lost his patience.

++

He wanted to be close to Yuri Plisetsky. He wanted Yuri to know his name, to smile when he said it, to say Otabek was his friend. But he never noticed Otabek. Not when they were kids in summer camp. Not when they were in juniors. Otabek was just another face Yuri passed without notice while every particle in Otabek’s body tugged him toward Yuri’s orbit.

And now he is.

“Hey, you want some tea or not?”

Otabek blinks. “Yes, tea.” He smiles when Yuri smiles. Catches his breath when Yuri tosses his hair back. It catches sunshine filtered through the window. Yuri glows in the sun like gold. Otabek wants gold.

“So did you see JJ at practice? He has two combination jumps and he’s actually doing a Belman? Seriously? I can taste the fear in that asshole. It’s delicious.” He grins and Otabek grinds his teeth. Just the sound of anyone else’s name on Yuri’s lips and he’s - . “Thank god you’re on the roster. I’d lose my mind if you weren’t here.”

Yuri opens a jelly packet with his teeth for his tea. Otabek struggles to speak. “Aren’t you going to stir it?”

Yuri shakes his head. “Best for last.”

His tea is bitter. He takes it that way, always. “What did you think of my routine?”

“Mine was the best one.” Yuri snorts. “You know it was. I will crush everyone.”

Otabek swallows spit while he watches as Yuri’s Adam’s apple goes up and down as he sips. “Don’t be too sure.” He tries not to think about it. He can’t think about it. Not here, not with him. But he can’t stop imagining Yuri underneath him. He’s wearing a silver medal, and nothing else, and Otabek is wearing gold. And he’s screaming Otabek’s name.

“I’m going to show that asshole. That gold is as good as mine.” Yuri moans as he tips up the cup. “Mmm!” He smacks his lips. “Beks, you need to try it with jelly. Just like that. It’s the sex!” Otabek suddenly despises the jelly for making him moan like that. Despises JJ for —

He gulps down whatever is left of the tea as one bead of sweat trickles down the column of his spine.

“I’m gonna dominate!” Yuri slams his cup down like he’s at a bar.

++

He was too old to be in the novice class. Too old and too stiff. He felt like a weathered board of wood. Like a rusted beam in those broken down buildings in the Kazakhstan countryside. Like ice, cracked ice.

He was too old and too brittle, too breakable. And then there was that boy. The blonde too beautiful to be a boy. He wasn’t breaking underfoot, no. He was flying.

“What’s the matter with you, Otabek? Why are you so embarrassed?”

Because he didn’t belong there.

“How are you going to skate if you can’t move?”

The boy noticed Otabek for the first time.

“Come on, kid! This is the only way you’re going to skate. You know that, right?”

The boy’s eyes were so _determined_. Otabek felt something inside of him knot up. That glare made him stand up straighter.

++

 _It’s the sex_. Otabek’s been hearing that a lot. Not just from Yuri. He heard Leo and JJ shout something like it in English, when he left practice. He heard it from Leo again, as he passed Otabek without so much as a hello, to Yuri. _You ranked at second my dude? The sex, bro. That’s the sex!_

Otabek could’ve taken his head off, right then and right there. Then Yuri turned to Otabek and _smirked_.

 _The sex_.

He hears it in his head, over and over, even when he glides over the ice. _The sex, the sex, the sex_... Otabek only had time to jerk himself off once after tea with the sun and Yuri. All he can think about is Yuri Plisetsky on his back, spread out like a feast for him when he takes his first jump, and everything is a blur. All he can think about is Yuri beneath him on the podium. On his back.

He doesn’t notice the flowers or the cheers. All he can see is Yuri’s smiling face. For a moment, Otabek thinks he might’ve placed.

Then he sees the score.

++

He first shared a bed with Yuri Plisetsky during their last night in Barcelona, after the Grand Prix Finals. Yuri was just shy of turning sixteen and he was already being called the sexiest man alive, and he was whispering secrets to Otabek under the white sheet, like a little kid.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.” His face is illuminated by his iPhone flash, it shines on his lower lip. “Never had a girlfriend. Or boyfriend.”

“You’re young.” Otabek thinks about biting off his glove during the exhibition skate. “Give it time.” He thinks about how he turned into this wild child out there. How he said it was because of Otabek.

He wiggles closer. “What’s it like? Kissing someone?”

Otabek tries not to look at his body. The light makes his skin gleam. Why isn’t he wearing a shirt? “It depends on the person.”

“Well, yeah?” He bites his lip. He smiles. “I don’t mean kissing your mom on the cheek. I mean,” he turns the light off, “sexually.” The darkness envelopes them.

Otabek closes his eyes as Yuri reaches for him. Finds him. Pulls himself against Otabek. He whispers: “Show me.”

His breath is so warm. He's so warm. Oh, fuck! The ideas Yuri Plisetsky was putting in his head. Crazy, sick ideas. “Go to sleep, Yura.”

And he did. But Otabek didn’t. He couldn’t.

++

There is champagne and there are suits, gowns, and niceties laid out on the pretense that they’re for everyone. They’re not. Otabek finishes his glass and takes another. This is not for him. This is all for JJ. He got the gold and the glory yet again, while Otabek relegates himself to a corner with Yuri.

“I’m meeting someone tonight.” Yuri smirks like he’s sharing a secret. Otabek doesn’t like that kind of secret.

“Someone?” He turns his champagne flute in his hand.

“He’s hot. He might finally break my ass in.” Yuri takes the Champagne out of his hand and practically sashays away and all Otabek can see is red.

++

He came to Moscow one summer to spend a week with Yuri. He didn’t realize they would be staying in his grandfather’s old Soviet-era apartment. The pipes rattled and the old man shook his finger at Otabek as they sat in a shoebox living room covered in framed newspaper clippings. “You are a Kazakh. You have a horse?”

“I don’t have a horse, Mr Plisetsky.”

“But you ride horses, yes? Kazakh men are born on horseback!”

Yuri jabbed him with his elbow. Otabek nodded. “Yes, sir. That’s what they say, sir.” Nevermind that his mother was a pianist and his father was an architectural engineer. As far as Mr Plisetsky was concerned Otabek lived in a yurt, guzzled fermented mare’s milk and did professional horseback wrestling.

Well, okay.

“I like your Kazakh women.” Yuri mouthed _sorry_ , and turned bright red. “I had a Kazakh woman when I was young.” He whistled and pumped his fist back and forth. “Very sturdy woman.” At least he didn’t mention Borat. “Are you a good friend to my Yurochka? A good influence? No drugs? No… loose morals?”

Otabek knew what that meant. “I try to be a good influence sir.”

He narrowed his eyes. He rubbed his beard. “What does a young man want from friendship with a boy?”

“He’s only three years older than me, grandpa! Mom was -“

The old man held his hand up and Yuri was suddenly, amazingly, silent. “That is why.”

“Mr Plisetsky, I promise I am a friend. _A friend._ Nothing more.” This time Otabek was sure his face was turning red as that old man’s eyes bored through his skull and saw all the sick, fucked up fantasies Otabek jerked off to, and every one one of them starred his precious grandson.

“You sleep on sofa. Yurochka - you will stay in your room.” There was a tick in his eye. “No… _loose morals!_ ”

Otabek wished he brought up Borat, instead.

++

He doesn’t wait for Yuri to open the door all the way. Otabek pushes his way into the room. “Where is he?” He’s acting like a madman and he knows it. He’s throwing the closet door, the bathroom door open. He’s turning around, looking under the bed, in the shower. “Where, Yuri?” He’s ready to tear this son of a bitch apart.

Yuri is strangely quiet, just standing in the center of his hotel room with a small smile on his face. He’s not shocked. He’s not upset. He is —

 _Amused_.

Otabek’s chest is heaving. He feels as if he’s run a marathon. He tries to take a deep breath. But he’s been driven slowly insane over the last half hour. He was pacing back like a caged animal and he wanted to break out of this room, charge down the hall and break down Yuri’s door so he could ram his fist through that bastard’s face.

“He’s not here yet.”

Yuri is covering his mouth with his hand. “He’s here.”

“Where!” Yura belongs to him! No - no that’s wrong. Otabek snarls. He can see this faceless man between Yuri’s legs, thrusting into his body - and it’s even worse. “Tell me where the hell this sick bastard is!”

Yuri points behind him, and when Otabek turns he only sees his reflection in the full length mirror. “Have you figured it out yet, stupid?”

He feels the hand sliding under his jacket. He sees Yuri peering over his shoulder. He feels the touch on his abdomen. Over his shirt. “Just this once.”

++

It happened last year.

Yuri called him on Skype, right before the car came to pick Otabek up. “You got the Armani suit.” Otabek nodded as Yuri studied it. “I knew it would look good.”

He kept worrying the cuffs. They never stayed down. “My hands are shaking.” He just noticed. He combed his hair back anyway.

“Did you take a shot of vodka like I told you?” He had Potya on his lap and he was petting her, worriedly. “It’s for your own good, you big dork.” But his smile was so calm. So peaceful. Otabek needed that smile.

Otabek sighed and he unscrewed the bottle and poured something like glorified turpentine with a vodka label into a questionable glass. The car horn honked. “That’s my ride.” He chugged it in one shot.

Yuri squared his shoulders as he watched Otabek shake it off and straighten his tie. “Otabek?” He leaned in. “I’m calling you at two your time, okay.”

“I’ll be fine.” It was hard enough to do this without her. Doing this and trying to keep it together to talk to him? “I won’t be alone.”

“Damn right you won’t, you big dork.” Yuri rolled his eyes. “Just indulge me, okay?”

He heard another honk. “They can’t wait.” Otabek took a deep breath. “I gotta go.” He didn’t want to. He wanted to stay here, with Yuri and watch him play with his grumpy cat in that obscene little tank top and booty shorts. He didn’t want to do this. “Tell me to go.”

Yuri touched the screen. “I wish I could be there with you.”

“I know.”

Later, at two in the afternoon in the middle of that cold, snowy Almaty winter, Otabek’s iPhone chimed as he stood under the leafless apple tree.

“How are you?” Yuri’s voice was a soothing balm.

He couldn't wipe his eyes enough. “I think I’m alive.” He passed for it, barely. God, it hurt to breathe. “I can’t tell.”

“I would bet all my money: you’re standing in the snow getting sick.”

Otabek’s nose was running. “Yeah.” And the snow kept falling, somehow. He could barely read the marker and they just had it put up. “I can’t read her name, Yura.”

“Beks.” His voice was the only warmth left in the world. “It doesn’t mean you’ll forget her.” Otabek hung his head and shut his eyes tight as he stood in front of a snowy grave that just got filled, and a new tombstone he couldn’t read. “Your mother must’ve been so happy, having a son like you.”

_Yura…_

++

 _Just this once_ , is what children say when they steal candy. It’s what school girls say in their boyfriends’ cars in the small hours of the morning. It’s what a drug addict would’ve said his first time.

And Otabek is saying this to himself right now, as he watches Yuri’s hand slide under the seam of his unbuttoned shirt. Just one touch to see him through the failure and disappointment. To soothe the fire in his blood. It’s going to have to be enough.

It’s soft, firm, warm - Otabek watches Yuri lick his lips and he wonders what they would feel like on his skin. “Years of waiting, Beks. Aren’t you tired of it?” He presses his body against his back and Otabek closes his eyes. “You’re always saying why we can’t but how bad do you have to get beat down till you can?”

Wait. Otabek opens his eyes.

“What are you trying to prove?” He turns Otabek’s chin. He forces him to see how close he is. As close as his next breath. “That you can suffer?”

“What about you?” When Otabek gets his hands on him Yuri will suffer, too. And Yuri will leave him. “What are you trying to prove?”

Yuri steps back. He never breaks eye contact as he unbuttons his shirt. As it falls to the floor. Then his pants. Then everything else until Yuri stands there naked, beautiful — _strong_. “That I can give you what you need.”

He can see the boy he was when he looks into his eyes. But this is a man, and he’s seeing this for the first time in his life as Yuri takes his hand. Kisses his hand and puts it on his smooth, creamy skin. “You’re an angel,” Otabek breathes. He doesn’t even realize he’s said it. All he knows is he’s said yes, somewhere.

“Then let me show you.” His arms are so warm, so strong and Otabek can’t hold back any longer.

“Tell me when you want me to stop.” He backs him up against the bed. He pushes him down. “Promise me.”

“I won’t.” Yuri groans when Otabek falls on top of him and growls as he presses him deep into the carpet. And again when he yanks his hands above his head. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Otabek is distracted by all the skin he has to touch and lick and taste. He begins with his mouth, slashing it open with the swipe of his tongue. He doesn’t have to hold back. He doesn’t have to stop. His hands trail down slowly. Learning him. Loving him. “You made me think you were going to let someone else touch you.” He bites Yuri’s lip. “You wanted to get me worked up over you, Yura?” He nods and he whimpers and he looks so damn sweet. Otabek nods right back. “Want to feel _wanted_?”

His hand slips between Yuri’s legs and he finally gets to see him arch his back. He is so beautiful and he is letting Otabek touch him, whimpering when he spits into his hand and works his foreskin up and down until his deep pink cock pokes out and Otabek can make him wail. “Beks!”

He's lush, silky smooth soft and he’s so eager to please. Otabek says, “So beautiful, Yura. So beautiful and strong.”

He sobs as Otabek’s hand goes faster. As Otabek watches him shiver and listens to him beg: “Please Beka, please Beks, please please please please…?”

Yuri’s eyes are so wide and his mouth is so open. Otabek kisses him again and wonders how it will be possible to do this just one time when Yuri is perfect, pliant, with his hands over his head. “Do you even know what you’re asking for?”

“Show me.”

There is lube on his hands. Between his legs, and all over the sheets. Otabek doesn’t give a damn. He is busy sucking that delectable pink dick as he pushes one fingertip inside. He is going to be the one to fuck Yuri and no one else. No one, ever. And he knows this when he looks up and sees Yuri’s lip tremble as he nods. “I can take it, Beks.”

Yes, Otabek believes he can.

He whispers in Yuri’s ear as he pushes one finger, two fingers in. “That’s it, Yura. Just like that.” He licks Yuri’s neck as he gasps for breath. He changes his angle and Yuri sobs his name, and keeps sobbing as he finger fucks him. “That’s it, Yura. My sweet, dirty Yura.”

Yuri’s cock jerks and he whimpers. “Make me come.”

“When I fuck you.”

“What are you waiting for?” His eyes are full of tears and there will be more. But there will be more, too. “I need you, Beks.”

And in that moment he sinks into Yura. He’s lost in that tight heat grilling his body and staring back at him in those blue green eyes. Like fire. Otabek’s body shakes with a need as his fingers dig into Yuri’s ass.

“Take me.”

Otabek presses him down into the mattress and pushes himself deep inside, over and over as their skin slaps and he grits his teeth, and god! Yuri’s slick and tight and he’s moaning for him. He’s begging for him. Begging for more. To go faster. “Give it to me,” he’s screaming. “Give it all to me!”

Otabek pushes his knees back. Stares into his eyes as Yuri sobs and nods. “So sweet.” Otabek touches him. Jerks him off in time to each thrust. “Sweet, sweet Yura. My only friend.”

He lets Yuri’s hands go. And Yuri reaches for him. Yuri finds him, he pulls Otabek down and brings him home.

++

They shouldn’t have slept so late. Yuri has a ten o’clock flight and Otabek leaves at twelve. It’s eight in the morning and it’s a fucking disaster.

“It doesn’t have to be awkward.” Yuri rolls off the mattress wearing the sheet like a stained toga. “I got screwed on the ice. You got really screwed on the ice. So we screwed - ”

“Off the ice.” Otabek needs black tea, water and acetaminophen. And he needs to find a way to let this night see him through a long time. Possibly forever. “I’m fine about it.” He can keep a stiff upper lip for Yuri. Hell, he could fly for his Yura. Move mountains. Die for his Yura.

Even if he’s not, strictly speaking, his Yura.

Otabek rubs his eyes. Then Yuri rubs his neck. “Go up.” He groans when Yuri rubs his skull, following the line of his undercut. “God, that’s good.” He tries to live in the small shell of this minute. It can’t last long.

Yuri kisses his nape. “I gotta go,” says Otabek. Yuri doesn’t watch him change. He sits still as Otabek phases through the degrees of leaving. He’s covering his body under last night’s suit. He clears his throat. He’s trying to make himself imagine boarding the flight. Imagine leaving him. Leaving Yuri; he has done it so many times. Too many times.

Otabek will only bring home fourth place and a memory.

Yuri tips up his chin and Otabek sees his tears. He’s trying to keep them from rolling down his cheeks but they’re already beading. He’s already shaking. Yuri takes his hand. Puts a piece of paper inside and kisses Otabek’s knuckles. “Don’t you dare open this in here.”

Otabek nods and he’s leaving Yuri, he’s gone and he’s left him and he’s got nothing as he walks like a cold numb fool who just buried his dreams in the Helsinki snow. Nothing but this note that probably explains why this can never happen again.

Except it doesn’t.

_Don’t you dare forget! Now you belong to me._

Otabek bows his head and he tries to breathe. He doesn’t know how he will, but he doesn't have to. He belongs somewhere, again.


End file.
